The _planh_ is a poem written on the death of a mistress, a friend, or a protector. It no doubt was amongst the duties of courtly poets to deplore the loss of the latter in suitable terms, and by far the greater number of complaints remaining to us belong to the species of official poetry. But in spite of this there is the true ring of sorrow in most of these songs, a fact which shows the frequent existence of genuinely cordial relations between the poets and their noble patrons. ‘Like one,’ says Folquet of Marseilles, ‘who is so sad that he has lost the sense of sorrow, I feel no pain or sadness; all is buried in forgetfulness. For my loss is so overpowering that my heart cannot conceive it, nor can any man understand its greatness.’ The object of this pathetic and no doubt sincere sorrow is not, as might be expected, a beloved friend of equal station or a mistress, but Barral, the mighty viscount of Marseilles, at whose court Folquet had been staying for a long time, and to whose wife, Adalasia, he was passionately attached. Quite as genuine and historically more important is the song in which Gaucelm Faidit deplores the premature death of England’s heroic King Richard. ‘It is hard on me,’ he says, ‘that the greatest loss and the greatest pain I ever had, and which I shall deplore for aye and ever, that this loss I must announce and proclaim in a song. The great and glorious Richard, the king of the English, is dead. Ah, God! what grief, what a loss! How strange the word sounds, and how sad it is to hear! He must have an obdurate heart who can bear it.’ The poet then proceeds to sing the praises of his lost protector in enthusiastic terms. ‘The king is dead—not for a thousand years has there been a man so brave, so kind, so bold, so liberal. For Alexander, the king who conquered Darius, did not, I believe, show such largess, nor are Charles and Arthur equal to his worth!’ All this may seem exaggerated and hyperbolical on the ground of historic criticism and moral principle; but Gaucelm Faidit did not see in Richard the rebellious son of former, and the tyrannic ruler of later days. To him he was the centre of gaiety and splendour, the fount of wealth and comfort, and, there is little doubt, a beloved friend withal. Of another Complaint devoted by Bertran de Born to the praise of Richard’s ill-fated brother Henry we shall hear on a later occasion. It marks the climax of power and beauty reached by this section of poetic art. Of the close connection between the poetry of the troubadours and the impulse which sent thousands of knights and varlets of all nations to the distant East, general mention has already been made. The more immediate result of this affinity of spirit is the song of the crusade, a poem that is designed to inspire men with valour and sacred ambition in the service of the Lord. It is a characteristic fact that the first troubadour of whom we have historic knowledge has left us a remarkable song of this order.